When Something Went Bump In The Night
by whynotitsfun
Summary: Cross post from A03. All Charloe plus a "smarter than you" OC. What if instead of Monroe rescuing Charlie in the bar and then her being tended for a day, she was forced to accept his care for a longer period of time? How would that affect things? Canon Divergent for the first half of season 2, and then picks up at episode 2.5 but with a twist. Rated M for a smutty chapter
1. Just When You Thought It Was Safe

**A/N: This is a cross post that originally put on AO3. I've decided to finally get off my behind and put it up here all in one shot. **

**What if Monroe had escaped the bounty hunters before the pool scene? What if Charlie tracked him down again? What if she'd never gotten drugged at the bar, but found herself dependent on Monroe in a different way and for a longer period of time? How would that change her perspective of the rest of the events of season 2? How would this have affected the aftermath of season 2?**

**Canon Divergent after the end of episode 02x01. A one-shot, so to speak but separated into multiple chapters because it was just way too long. There is a lot of internal dialog and as a warning some of the characters motions may seem a bit repetitive, if only because most of what's going on is internal. There is a lot of internal dialog, references to previous paragraphs and subtle shifts in mindset. Past experiences and reflections often change our perspective of current events and how we respond and react to the behaviors of others...**

Chapter Text

_Two months after fleeing New Vegas…_

_October 6, 2028_

Sebastian Monroe stumbled home from the bar alone, feeling quite pleasantly drunk. After spending the last week breaking his back in the coal mines outside of town, he'd once gain been paid and had immediately put it to good use. Not finding himself interested in any of the local girls this evening, he'd spent his time and money tying one on instead.

So far he'd managed to pass five weeks in Wright, Wyoming completely undetected – four of those weeks had even been spent gainfully employed. This time he determined not to make the same mistake he'd made in New Vegas. No, he was determined to stay under the radar.

He really shouldn't have been surprised that he'd been tracked to New Vegas. As Jimmy King, he'd made quite the name for himself in the fight ring. He'd waltzed right into town and quickly picked his way through the other fighters in town, becoming Gould's number one draw within a week. By the time that those bounty hunters had tried taking him down, his reputation had begun to spread outside of New Vegas as well.

After all, it wasn't every day that someone came through taking down men half his age and outweighing him by a good fifty pounds. No, riding high and undefeated had simply attracted too much attention and he should have known better. It wasn't his fault he was the best, but he didn't exactly have to flaunt it so much.

In Wright he lived a quiet and perfectly boring existence under the alias Jack Smith. He worked in the coal mines during the day and gambled and drank his pay away at night at the local tavern. The job came with a small shack that met his needs and there were just enough pretty women in town to keep him from going completely stir crazy when he had an itch to scratch – although he tried to keep his association with them discreet. Sebastian Monroe was known to be a total man-whore, so jack Smith could not be.

As it was, mining brought him in almost as much as prize fighting had. The resource was in high demand in both Texas and California, with more and more trains being put into service. The work was demanding and could be dangerous – they'd lost thirty men in a cave in just weeks before he'd arrived. Still, he didn't mind. He'd even made a few friends here and there—helping people out here and there and so on. Sebastian Monroe was known to be a total dick, so Jack Smith couldn't be.

He stumbled into the shack, just barely missing the downpour that had been threatening on his way home. The row of shacks was just on the outskirts of town, which was how he liked it. Close enough to get around but far enough away to avoid attention. It was just one room, but it was his one room. Sure, he had to share an outhouse and pump with the occupants of five other cabins, but it was better than nothing.

He kicked his boots off and was just about to slither out of his clothes when he could have sworn he heard something outside his window. He almost ignored it, but old habits die hard. He grabbed his gun and a sword. He hated having only one, but Sebastian Monroe was known to wield two, so again, Jack Smith could not. Lamenting the fact that he was about to get soaked, he popped out of the shack. Pausing for a minute under the small covered porch, he took a deep breath and stepped into the rain.

Creeping around the side of the building carefully, he stopped at the corner so whomever was by the back of the house didn't see him. Sure enough, there was a lone figure propped up against the wood siding, crouched below the window. More than likely he (or she) had likely been waiting for him to pass out before making a move.

The noise from the storm provided him an advantage as he snuck up on the would-be assailant. Within moments, his sword was at the assassin's neck. "Drop your weapon and move slowly."

The figure didn't move. "I said drop it!" he commanded once more. When he didn't get a reply or reaction he knew something was off. His sword still at ready, he reached out and shook the intruder by the shoulder. It was then that he realized the sound he'd heard was from the body hitting the side of the house. He sheathed his sword and dragged the body around to the front of the house. He was surprised that even as dead weight how light it was. Even in the darkness he could see the held what appeared to be a crossbow.

As soon as he got the body to the porch and out of the rain, he went inside and grabbed a lantern. There in the warm glow of the lamp light was of all people, the Matheson girl. She was alive, but that was all he could say about her. She clutched the crossbow like it was her lifeline. "Aw hell," he muttered under his breath.

Setting the lantern on the table near the door, he picked her up and carried her sodden form inside. Relieving her of her weapon (and wisely stashing it as far under his bed as he could), he went about removing her soaked clothes before she froze to death. The several thin layers she wore under her jacket suggested she'd been out on the road a while and hadn't expected the abrupt temperature changes as she went further north -or, she hadn't anticipated going so far north in the first place.

October in Wyoming could be quite nasty when it wanted to be, and this fall was turning out to be a prime example of that. As he stripped her down it hit him… She must have followed him here from New Vegas. It made sense. She was the girl – the one the bookie had convinced him to go meet; she had to be. At the exact same time the bounty hunters had made their move, a crossbow bolt had whizzed just by them landing into the side of their wagon. If the bounty hunters had not interfered, that bolt very well could have killed him. On the other hand, it had provided just the distraction he'd needed to stash a piece of broken glass inside his wristband.

They hadn't made it far before he'd used it to cut his ropes and escape with no one the wiser. In turn both of the parties out to get him had unwittingly aided in his continued freedom and existence. But here she was now – more than likely the cause of his abrupt flight in the first place. "Aw hell," he repeated.

Having removed everything down to her undergarments, Monroe wrapped her up in a blanket. She was still unconscious and her skin was like ice. The girl looked like hell. She'd probably been out in the elements for far too long without proper supplies, trying to track him down. On top of how unusually wet it had been in the past few weeks, since the first of the month the temperatures at night had just barely hovered above freezing.

In short, she was lucky she hadn't died of exposure before she even found him. With an annoyed sigh, he gently laid her in his bed before building up a fire in the small hearth. As soon as he had it going he turned back to her. He spent the next hour getting her warmed up and trying to awaken her. He finally gave up. She was no longer cold but she looked far too pale. Her cheeks were now flushed. Tentatively touching her forehead, he could feel the fever.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself before heading back out into the rain and back towards town. In the process of tracking him down (with most likely the intent being to kill him), she'd gotten herself quite ill. "You have got to be kidding me," he grumbled miserably as he passed the closed businesses in the center of town.

Reaching his destination, he started banging on the door. This went on for several minutes before a lamp was lit within. "I'm coming! Stop the racket!" an annoyed feminine voice shouted. The door opened to reveal a small Asian woman in her mid-sixties, looking entirely put out. "What do you want at this time of night, Jack?" she snapped.

"Sorry Mei. I found a girl," he began.

The woman went to close the door. "Good for you. Thanks for sharing the news. Have fun and don't let her give you the clap; I'm closed!"

Monroe stopped the door with his boot. "Come on, Mei. She needs help."

She paused and let him in. "You've been here barely over a month. Don't tell me you knocked up one of the local hussies already?" She took a minute to look him over. With the shake of her head, she reached under her counter and tossed him a small towel.

"What? No! Not that kind of help. It looks like she's been out in the cold for a while, has a fever or something. I found her outside in the storm, passed out," he rushed to explain as he used the towel to dry off somewhat.

"Of for heaven's sake," the woman muttered as she disappeared into the backroom that served as both her storeroom and her private living quarters. Mei Lin may be small, but she had the demeanor if a pit viper. Monroe had taken an instant liking to her the moment he'd gotten into town and had done his best to stay on her good side. As the daughter of a Chinese herbalist and a pharmacist in her own right before the blackout, she was the closest thing to a doctor that Wright had – and she was good company at a poker table.

She came back out to the front of her shop a few minutes later fully dressed with a large satchel and an umbrella in hand. "Well come on then, let's got see your mystery woman."

"I didn't mean you had to-" He instantly felt bad for dragging her out into the rain.

"You want me to help the girl; I need to know what's wrong with her. Let's go, Casanova." She left him staring after her. Yes, he definitely had taken a liking to this cantankerous woman.

When they got back to Monroe's shack, she went about her work. The Matheson girl had yet to move, which worried him. After briefly looking her over, Mei started digging through her bag and setting things aside. She went back to the bedside and put her ear to the girl's chest. "Well, she has a fever…"

"Yeah, I already figured that one out," Monroe said with a roll of his eyes.

"Shut up and let me finish. Her lungs are wheezing; she could have bronchitis- but as sick as she is, my money's on pneumonia." She slapped a jar onto the small counter where she'd left her bag. "Rub this on her chest three times daily."

As she started digging things out again, she ordered him around. "Stoke the fire. Heat some water," and so on.

Monroe went about the shack, doing as he was bid and tried his best to stay out of her way. He went to the barrel on the porch he kept for drinking water and filled a pot up. He noted it was getting low and he'd have to fill it from the pump he shared with his neighbors in the morning. When he had the water boiling, Mei poured some into a cup and started dropping various herbs into it.

He leaned against the wall in the corner and watched her work. When she deemed the contents of the cup ready, she set it aside to cool. She pulled out a small vial filled with some type of liquid and began to add a powered substance to it. She shook it well before filling an old medicine dropper with its contents, immediately feeding it to the girl. "Penicillin," she explained. "I've been growing it myself. Dosing is guesswork, but maybe it will help. Give it to her morning and night and if she wakes up, make her eat. Make her drink that tea, even if you have to spoon feed it, three times a day," she added as she pointed to the cup. "I'll send you some broth tomorrow. You'll have to get it in her somehow until she wakes up – if she wakes up."

"Thank you," Monroe offered as he dug into his precious stash of diamonds and paid the woman for her services.

"She might get better, might die. Don't get your hopes up. Too bad – she's a pretty thing, isn't she?" Mei collected her things and headed towards the door.

"Yeah, too bad…" he repeated as he followed her out the door to see her home. When he returned a little while later, she was still out.

He started to strip out of his own wet clothing. He only owned the one set and a pair of old flannel pajama pants. They would have to do until his others had dried. He spread his clothes out next to hers and left his boots sitting close to the fire as well. It was late and between running all over creation in the rain and the whiskey from earlier, he was starting to get a headache. He spread his only spare blanket out on the floor and did his best to get comfortable.

As he drifted off, he started to question the wisdom of his decision. As he'd seen it his options regarding Charlotte Matheson were limited. He could take off and hope she came out of it, ditch her somewhere and leave her to die, or he could do his best to nurse the young woman back to health. He had a feeling that taking care of her would be something he'd soon learn to regret, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to leave well enough alone.

He awoke just before dawn. After stoking the fire back to life, he checked on their clothes. At least his undershirt was dry. Casting a wary glance in her direction, he yanked it over his head. He carefully crept over to the bed to check on her. She didn't appear any different than the night before.

He did his best to ignore his hangover as he followed Mei's instructions before going to get dressed. His remaining clothes were a little damp, but at least the rain had stopped. He'd just have to make do. With one more last glance at her, he left the shack to head into town. If he was going to care for her, he'd need supplies.

As he made his way back to town, he started thinking of an excuse to get out of working without losing his job. When he got to the center of town, he found that for once in his life, he'd caught a lucky break. A few of the mine shafts were flooded from the storm. With the recent cave in the owners decided that it was too much of a risk to open any of them until the water receded completely. Ordinarily he'd be as annoyed as the rest of the workers were – a closed mine meant no pay, but it did give him the out he needed for at least a day or two.

He used another chunk of his savings to get extra food and a few other odds and ends he'd need to care for her, including the broth from Mei. He'd just been paid and already he was almost broke. Berating himself for helping a woman who'd just tracked him down to kill him, he headed back to tend to her.


	2. Wake Up And Take A Good Look

**A/N: Just to be clear, a lot of the conversations that Charlie and Monroe had in the first few episodes of season 2 are kind of jumbled together, out of order in this chapter. Rather than meeting and parting, meeting and parting etc, she's stuck with him for the time being. There's nothing like being forced around someone with no escape to allow you to really say what's on your mind - and the same goes for both parties.**

**Unlike the show where if he said to much or went to far she could have gotten up and walked way at some point, he can pretty much go off the deep end and there's little she can do about it, so that filter can come off a bit... And that's really the whole point of the story really.**

Chapter Text

Three days later, Charlie opened her eyes. It was dark and her vision was fuzzy. She felt fingers on her chest. She blinked several times and waited for her eyes to adjust. They felt so heavy and she felt like she was struggling to keep her head above water. Someone was gently rubbing something greasy onto her skin. Her chest and throat hurt, each breath she took burning; and her head was pounding.

She tried to brush the hand away that was massaging the mess onto her in slow circles. "Hold on, I'm almost done."

_That voice. _It was so familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. The hand soon retreated. As she lay there, she tried to think back to where she was. She'd finally gotten a lead on the murderous bastard. She'd been a week or so away from a town called Wright when the weather had suddenly turned. She didn't remember much after that.

"Where am I?" she rasped.

Suddenly he came into view, holding a bowl of something. "You're in Wright, Wyoming." he said. His voice and demeanor were so calm and reserved that it took her some time to react.

Charlie tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. "Take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you."

"What am I doing here?" she managed to ask.

"My guess is you probably came to kill me. Too bad you almost got yourself killed in the process." Before she could say anything he shoved a spoonful of some type of broth in her mouth. Untrusting, she spat it out. "If I was going to try and hurt you, do you think I'd really be going through so much effort to take care of you?" he challenged. "I found you outside my window, almost frozen to death. If Mei is right, you have pneumonia."

"What's in the bowl?"

"Broth. Beef today, actually. Who knows what it'll be tomorrow. I take what she gives me." He shoved in another spoonful; this time she swallowed it.

"How long have I been here?" Charlie asked when the bowl was empty.

"Three days." Monroe got up and went to grab the bottle of homegrown antibiotics.

"What's that?" she demanded warily.

Monroe filled the dropper and approached her with it. "Penicillin – and it cost me a fucking fortune so I swear if you spit it out…" he let the threat hang out there.

Charlie behaved herself despite the inclination she had to do otherwise. From the way she was feeling she had no doubt that she was ill with something, even if it wasn't pneumonia. "Why are you doing this?"

She started to cough then. The medicine on her chest was working to loosen things up in her lungs, but the coughing still wasn't productive enough. As she bent over and started to wheeze and choke, he went to dip a rag in water he'd been heating on the stove. He tossed it a few times until it was just cool enough to hold and went to her side. Not wanting to wash of the balm, he placed it on her back instead. He'd learned quickly that the heat helped her to recover from one of these spells. She'd been having them frequently, even in sleep.

She jerked at the first contact of the rag's heat, but he held it in place and forced her to keep sitting up. "Breathe Charlie – short breaths," he murmured, rubbing her back unconsciously until she came out of it. When it was over he helped her to lie back before answering her. "It was either this or let you die outside in the rain."

He sat down across the room from her, stopping to grab his own modest dinner. He watched her while he ate. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. "Don't worry, I was a perfect gentleman the whole time," he added smugly.

"Why am I naked then?" she accused.

"Your clothes were soaked and I've been rubbing shit on your chest for three days so you could breathe. And do you know how hard it is to dress an unconscious person?"

Charlie flinched. He'd sounded indignant that she would even suggest such a thing. "I'm sorry," she weakly offered. "So what are you going to do with me?"

He looked up from his meal once more. "Get you well and send you on your way."

Charlie stared him down. "You know I'll just come back and kill you, right?"

"Guess I'll just have to move on again then. Pity – I was actually starting to like it here." He finished his meal and went to clean up. Afterwards he tossed her the tank top he'd removed from her the night he'd found her. "I have an early day tomorrow – go to sleep," he said gruffly as he settled down on the floor.

The next morning he got ready to go to the mines before getting her medicated and fed. "Mei will come to check on you later. Don't treat her like shit. No matter how much you might want me dead, she doesn't deserve it. She's a good person."

Charlie ate the fruit and cheese he'd left her and took a good look around from her vantage point on the bed. It was just a one room shack with a fireplace on one wall and the bed on the other next to the lone window. On the wall that separated them was a cast iron stove and counter with a sink basin, suggesting that the shack once had plumbing. She could see the handles of a galvanized tub poking out from the original sink so she knew there was no septic tank for it to drain into. If she had to hazard a guess, she'd say it might have been a small hunting cabin long ago.

The floor was roughhewn wood. Seeing it made her feel guilty about his displacement at night; it couldn't have made a comfortable bed. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were two old wooden chairs and a mix matched set of end tables – one was by her bed and the other pushed to the wall by the door. Other than the hope chest that he used to store his meager possessions, there was little else in the shack.

After the bounty hunters had screwed up and allowed him to escape within minutes of leaving New Vegas, she'd given chase immediately. He'd wisely kept to the pavement, knowing he'd be impossible to track that way.

She'd doubled back to New Vegas after a few days and had ransacked his trailer to see if he'd left anything behind that would give insight to where he may have gone. All she'd found there were a few weapons (which she'd snagged and then later sold for a hefty sum) and several printed articles about the bombings. He seemed to have been collecting them, for what she could not fathom. Otherwise, he'd left nothing. In comparison, this lowly shack looked like paradise, as sad as it was - a pathetic existence for a man that once lived in the proverbial ivory tower that was Independence Hall.

Her energy waning, Charlie slumped back against the pillow. She knew she should be taking advantage of his absence and escaping while she had the chance, but she just didn't have the strength. She found herself hating the man all the more for it. She'd spent months tracking him to New Vegas and then another two months tracking him here. All that had led to was her reliance on the son of a bitch.

The man had to know that forcing her to accept his aid would be distasteful at best. The memory of waking to his warm fingers spreading the pungent balm on her flesh was downright revolting. Gentleman or not, the thought of him undressing her was just as bad.

She broke into another fit of coughing that left her wheezing and dizzy. She laid there trying to catch her breath while thoughts of the man that had saved her whirled in her mind. What could possibly have been his motivation for helping her? Surely he had to have known he'd be better off to just let her die? After all, she couldn't kill him from beyond the grave.

She dozed off while worrying about this, waking up several hours later to the sound of the door opening. The aging woman that entered ignored her as she went about the room, stoking the fire and then digging through her bag.

"Who are you?" Charlie asked when the woman approached the bed.

"I'm Mei Ling. Jack asked me to come to you while he is working until you are strong enough to tend to yourself."

"Working?"

"Oh yes. He works down in the mines, along with over half the town." Mei started to mix the herbal tea she'd left a few days prior.

While she waited for it to cool, she had Charlie lie back so she could spread the balm on her chest once more. "What is all this?" Charlie eventually asked.

"This and that. It will help your lungs a little while we wait for the antibiotics to work. You're lucky he found you when he did. Luckier still he was smart enough to come get me. Pneumonia kills most." She handed her the tea. "Drink all of it."

Charlie took a tentative sip. Somehow it tasted better coming from this woman than it had from Monroe (although she was sure there was no difference). "So this Jack. He's a coal miner?" She couldn't quite picture it.

"Yes. And built for it too, that one is. If I was twenty years younger, I'd give him something to mine for." Mei cackled at her own crude joke. "What I'd like to know is who you are?"

"Charlotte Math-ers." She'd almost give her real last name, only correcting herself at the last second. She'd quickly learned that the name Matheson was only slightly less hated than Monroe.

"And you're a bounty hunter, Miss Mathers?" Mei asked. "You seem awfully young for that trade."

Of course she wasn't, but the intent wasn't too far off the mark. "How did you-?"

Mei started to prepare a meal for her while they talked. "He brought your crossbow to my shop for safekeeping. He seemed convinced that you'd be stubborn enough to take off before you were well and that just maybe you'd stick around if I kept it for you. The only folks we see with a weapon like that in these parts are clansmen and bounty hunters. And it's obvious you're not in a warclan."

"I'm just passing through." Charlie offered. She didn't the woman to know who she was looking for. Now that she'd found him she didn't want to run the risk of anyone else finding him for the bounty.

Mei finished warming the stew she'd brought and handed it off to her. "Eat this and stay in bed," she instructed gruffly. She could sense the girl was hiding something. Lying about your name was one thing. Starting over was common enough in the days since the blackout and she had no problem with that. But this girl was lying about something else and that she didn't appreciate. Bounty hunters could mean trouble - and dishonest ones more so. "If I were you, I'd concentrate on getting better before I worried about some bounty."

Charlie sighed. She was starting to like the woman. Her no-nonsense attitude reminded her so much of Maggie. She could see her evasiveness had offended her. "I'm not a bounty hunter," she confessed. "But I am looking for someone. There was a man that killed my brother and father. I've been searching for him – to make him pay for his crimes. I heard he was in California. I was just passing through the wastelands on my way there when the weather changed and I got caught up in it."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a complete lie either. "My mother and uncle don't know where I am, so I'm trying to stay under the radar," she continued.

The explanation seemed to appease Mei for now. "You're not going anywhere for a while, girlie. It will take at least a few weeks for you to recover, if not longer."

With that, Charlie was left alone. She ate the stew and with little else to do, she went back to sleep. It was getting dark by the time Monroe's return woke her. Despite the cool temperature outside, he was sweaty and covered in black dust and grime.

He set a bag he'd brought with him inside the door and took off his shirt and boots outside before coming in. Considering most people in town were no better off, he'd never been all that worried about taking his work home with him before now. They were coal miners, and as such they were constantly covered in the shit. He washed what he had every few days and shook off the dust in between. He still got laid whenever he wanted, so who really cared if his clothes were always just a little dirty?

But then again, he'd never had someone with pneumonia in his home before either. Changing into the flannel pants, he took the rest of his clothes outside and began to shake them off the best he could before washing as much of the coal dust and residue from his hair and skin as possible. He took the time to wash his clothes also.

He returned fairly clean, all things considered. She watched him as he spread his clothes out and then stroked the fire back to life so they'd dry. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want to choke to death because of the dust?" he snapped. She shook her head in response, taken aback by both his tone and the fact he was going through so much effort because of her. Even in places like Sylvania Estates and Willoughby, people didn't wash their clothes daily. They were too expensive and too hard to come by to risk ruining them by constantly scrubbing them with harsh lye. "Didn't think so," he continued as he went to unpack the bag of supplies he'd brought.

He started slamming things as he pulled them out of the bag he'd brought home. There he was going out of the way to be courteous and that was the thanks he'd gotten. He knew he'd done a lot of shitty things to her family but still, he was tired of being the whipping boy. Couldn't he just do something nice without being mocked or questioned for it?

Charlie watched him unpack and then go about fixing their evening meal. In the light of the lamp he'd lit, she could see the weariness on his features – the dark circles under his eyes. It had not occurred to her before now that tending to her had probably not allotted a lot of time for him to sleep. Her thoughts went back to the uneven wood floor. Any time he'd had to rest must have been uncomfortable at best. In addition to that, mining was backbreaking work. Now that she watched him, he looked thinner than he had when she'd seen him fighting in New Vegas. Thinner and harder, even.

"Thank you," she finally conceded.

Monroe just nodded in response as he started throwing things in the pot on the stove. He'd spent the last of his pay on several days' worth of food and a few chipped dishes so they could eat at the same time – he'd only had the one cup, a small plate and a bowl before. He'd also picked up a threadbare robe so she could cover herself when tending to her own needs.

After they shared a meal in complete silence, she indicated she needed to do just that. Mei had helped her use the pail he'd left her as a makeshift chamber pot, but the idea of squatting over a bucket in front of him was just gross. He helped her put the robe on and led her to the outhouse he shared with the occupants of the neighboring shacks.

When she emerged from the foul structure, he wordlessly led her back. When he had her settled once more he went about measuring the precious antibiotics. "I still don't understand why you're so hell bent on helping me," she mused.

"Despite everything, Charlie, I didn't want to hurt you – any of you." He grabbed the balm and scooped a handful of it out to put on her chest.

"I can do it," she stammered.

He ignored her and pulled the robe aside and gently started to spread the greasy mess, doing his best not to notice the rise and fall of her chest while he did it. He kept his hands north of the collar of her tank top and tried to picture her as the little girl he knew long ago – with mixed results. He was only human after all. "It was already on my hand anyway. It's hard to wipe off," he murmured as he finished. "Anyway, I never wanted you dead in the first place…"

"Could have fooled me, considering you tried to kill us so many times," she said with a brow arched in challenge.

"And you all tried to kill me, so I guess that makes us even. At least on my end it wasn't personal- at least not at first."

"Then why did you want the Militia to bring Miles in? What about my Dad? Danny?"

"I didn't order your dad killed. I didn't order your dad anything. Miles had sent out the initial orders to find your family. I just never cancelled them, even after he brought your mom to Philly. And I didn't know about Danny's death until well after it happened," he argued.

"What about Miles? Why were you trying so hard to bring him in, if you didn't want him killed?" she asked, her accusation well implied.

"Because I wanted to ask him why," Monroe replied, clenching his jaw in a vain attempt to keep his emotions in check.

"Why what?"

"Why I woke up one night to find my best friend had a gun to my head and half our militia ready to back his play. Why he plotted the coup, and why he didn't just kill me when he had the chance. Everyone would have been a lot better off if he had," he said as he dumped some water he'd had warming into the galvanized tub so he could wash the bowls they'd used. He kept his head bowed and tried to hide the fact that the conversation had gotten to him. He blinked a few times to clear the moisture in his eyes.

"Wow, can you just make your eyes tear up like that at will?" The signs of remorse from him made her decidedly uncomfortable. She didn't want to see this side of him because it would only make it harder to kill him later.

"Excuse me?" he said, turning to look at her in shock.

"I mean, this poor wounded Monroe act, it's kind of pathetic," she baited.

"You don't know me, _Charlotte_." He emphasized her full name, betting that she probably hated it as much now as she ever had as a child. The way she bristled at his use of it proved he'd hit the mark.

"Sure I do. You're a sociopath. You say and do what you want to get whatever you want. Behind the mask you're cold, empty – a killer." She drove the final nail home. She knew her words had struck true and injured him.

Monroe turned on her. "I don't want anything from you. I could have left you to die – or killed you in your sleep when you made it clear you're going to ruin what little bit of a life I've managed to find here the second you get better. Yeah, I've killed a lot of people and I made unforgiveable mistakes. That still doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that. Maybe Miles has that right, but you don't – so watch your mouth." He grabbed his clothes and started to get dressed as he spoke, grimly noting that they were still damp. "For the time being, you're dependent on me, so I'd be polite if I were you."

"Where are you going?" she asked when he made his way back towards the door.

"Out!" he barked as he let the door slam behind him. Monroe went to the only place he knew to lick the wounds she'd given him – the local bar. Since he'd spent every diamond and coin he'd made on taking care of the venomous little hellion in his shack, he had nothing to spend. He was reduced to asking Sam Draven, the owner of the establishment for credit- just another humiliation that he'd have to endure because of her.

Sam reluctantly agreed and set him up with a bottle of the nastiest rotgut he had. Knowing that beggars couldn't be choosers, Monroe retreated to a corner table and got started drinking his wounds away. _The nerve of her._ He got it – there was no love lost between her family and him, but he'd nothing in the past few days that didn't revolve around nursing the little bitch back to health. He didn't expect gratitude, but he thought that his actions at least demanded that she be civil. He was no happier about the arrangement than she was. He really should have told Mei about her presence and then booked it when he had the chance – before he'd gone broke on her behalf.

No, he'd asked for nothing in return and still wasn't planning on it. The last thing he needed was her sharp tongue on top of everything else. Charlie Matheson may be young and beautiful, but she was a downright shrew. She was definitely her mother's daughter, that was for damn sure.

Monroe sat alone and drank until he was well and truly sloshed before making his way back home. Alcohol was, after all the best antiseptic for a bleeding heart and damaged soul. He knew he'd have one hell of a hangover the next morning, but at least he was numb in the meantime. The bickering back and forth with his so-called houseguest had brought up emotions he'd been trying to bury for months. Even if she hadn't gone out of her way to wound him so deeply, the results would likely have been the same.

He found her still awake when he came in through the door. She sat up and eyed him warily. Something about the way she looked at him now, like he was a dangerous animal only succeeded in riling him back up again. She could smell the whiskey on his breath as he loomed over her. "You think I'm really an empty sociopath? That I feel nothing? You don't know anything." She flinched at the anger in his voice. "I would give anything to be numb like that. I. Feel. Everything."

He bit off those last words before stumbling back to the other side of the room and undressing he tossed the blanket that made up his lonely bed to the floor, kicking it into a haphazard pile before settling himself down on it to let the whiskey take over so he could pass out.

She watched him for some time, feeling guiltier over her earlier attack. "Sebastian?"

If she'd called him by his surname, he'd have ignored her. But the use of his given name shocked him in his inebriated and raw state, forcing a response. "What?" he slurred.

"I'm sorry… about what I said."

"Just go to sleep." Charlie closed her eyes and tried to forget the thinly veiled anguish she'd just heard in his voice.

When she woke up in the morning, she watched the man carefully as he got dressed. Thoughts of the previous evening ran through her mind. She'd done everything she could to provoke him. After all, if she was too weak to kill him, she was honor bound to attack him with everything she could… wasn't she?

_She waits for him to fall asleep. She doesn't want to stay here a minute longer. She carefully grabs her clothes from where the sit on top of the hope chest. She gets dressed as quickly as possible and slips on her boots. She laments the loss of her crossbow. She doesn't know where Mei's shop is, but maybe she can find it and get the woman to either take her in or give it back to her. She grabs her pack and goes to leave._

_As soon as she starts to cross the cabin, she gets dizzy, but she is determined. She opens the door carefully, praying he's drunk enough for it to not wake him up. She closes it behind her. As soon as the cold air hits her lungs, she starts to cough. Just like before, she can't seem to stop. The coughing is painful, her lungs burn with infection and for lack of air, her ribcage aches from the force of it. She sinks to her knees._

_The door opens up and before she knows it, she's in his arms as he carries her inside. His movements are a bit unsteady – he's very drunk, but he manages to get her inside and deposits her on the bed. He starts heating up some water and then returns to her side, ripping her clothes off of her. She is coughing too hard to fight him._

_He goes back over to the fireplace and pulls the put out of the flames. The water is hot and he dips the rag in, cursing as he wrings it out and tosses it in the air a few times. He goes over to her, almost tripping. Without a word, he sits on the edge of the bed and forces her up. The rag hits her back. As before, its heat makes her jump – it really is almost hot enough to burn her._

_He rubs her back through the cloth, words slurring as he tells her to breathe. Despite what she's said to him earlier (and she knows she went too far), he's gentle with her now. This reminds her of all the time she helped Danny through asthma attacks. The memory has her fighting the urge to cry. _

_Thankfully, he seems to mistake the redness in her eyes as a result from the coughing fit and the lack of air._

_She turns her head and watches him for a second while she struggles to catch her breath. His eyes are half closed and bloodshot. He's drunk and wounded and obviously running on empty. She just doesn't get it. If their roles were reversed, she would definitely not be helping him now – not if he'd treated her the way she did to him earlier. He looks at her and their gazes meets. She's recovering from the attack. He pulls away from her, getting up as if the bed is on fire._

_He backs away from the bed until the counter stops him. He jumps a little when his back hits the corner of it, as if he'd forgotten it was even there. He stands there for a second, swaying just a little in his drunken state. There is a certain vulnerability there; it's too real and raw for it to be a lie for her benefit. Before she can reflect on it further, the mask slides back down into place and his features are blank and cold – the General is now standing there before her._

_He turns away from her. The rag is deposited on the counter and he's back in place on the floor. The way his arms are spread out the side, palms on the floor suggest that just maybe the room is spinning a bit around him. The past ten minutes are just enough for a small sliver of doubt to worm its way into her internal definition of Sebastian Monroe. What sort of man is he really?_


	3. Internal Band-Aids And Emotional Condoms

**A/N: Some walls don't last long...Yes this chapter is short... Some of them will be longer than others (some exceedingly so..)**

Chapter Text

Over the next several days he got up and went to work without so much as a word to her, leaving Mei to check on her during the day still. When he returned each evening, he did not speak to her unless it was absolutely necessary. She hadn't realized how kind he'd been to her until he'd replaced what little he had spoken with utter silence. She'd tried several times to break the barrier between them, but he'd refused to engage her. He just cared for her in an uncomfortable and detached manner.

Mei let it slip one day that Monroe was racking up quite the debt in order to care for her. The woman told Charlie that he'd missed several days of work when he'd first found her because of the flooding and that just like the rest of the town, he'd spend a few weeks suffering because of it. And that was before he was spending everything he had on her care.

Supplies were expensive enough in Wyoming as most of them were brought in via caravan from all over the Plains and California. Recent disruptions of unknown origin had made the cost even dearer. The wastelands were typically ignored by the organized nations as a whole but this area was too rich in the coal they produced for it to be ignored. That didn't mean that things came cheaply.

She'd had no idea that in addition to the supplies, he'd been paying Mei to see to her needs. She'd thought the woman had done this as a friend, but the reality of it was simple; friend or not, she was a business woman and tending to Charlie was hurting her own shop.

On the fourth morning after their "fight", she told him she didn't need Mei to check on her any longer. She was still too weak to go anywhere, but she could at least make it out of bed long enough to use the outhouse and see to her own needs. "I want my crossbow," she'd also announced.

"Like I trust you with a weapon," he'd scoffed.

She'd mocked him in kind. "If I was going to kill you right now, I could just have easily shot you with your own gun while you were sleeping."

"I'll have to make sure I keep it on me then," was all he'd said, implying she wouldn't go for it if it involved touching him. Still, when he returned home that night he was carrying her weapon. He tossed it unceremoniously on the bed along with her supply of bolts.

"Do whatever you want with it. Kill me, don't kill me – you're gonna get whatever it is you want in the end anyway," he said before heading outside to clean up. Despite his anger at her, he still dutifully made sure to keep as much of the dust from the mine as possible outside of the shack for her benefit.

When he returned, Charlie was using a knife to pry at something on the crossbow's wooden stock. Finally getting it loose, she slid a piece of wood free, revealing a hidden compartment. She turned the crossbow over and shook it until a small pouch fell out on the bed.

"Here," she said as she handed it to him.

Monroe furrowed his brows in confusion as he took it from her. He opened it up and looked inside to reveal several gold coins and a small handful of diamonds. He tossed it back to her. "I don't' need your charity," he snapped.

"Mei told me how much my being here is costing you – you're in debt to half the town. This isn't charity. I'll be damned if you starve because of me," she explained. She did her best to keep the sneer off of her face.

"What do you care? You're just going to turn around and kill me anyway," he pointed out.

She plucked the pouch up off her lap and threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest. "Well maybe not right away. I thought I'd give you a head start, seeing as how you saved me and all." He picked the pouch off the floor and went to hand it back to her, stubborn as ever. Charlie just crossed her arms over her chest, refusing it. "I don't like charity any more than you do," she added.

Resigned, he set the pouch down on the counter and went about fixing her something to eat – all he seemed to do these days other than work was feed this little witch. He decided that if she was going to force him to take her money, he'd only use it to pay back Mei for her help. The rest of it he'd save and leave for her. He'd already made the decision to split town when she got a little better. He had no doubt in his mind that she'd reveal his identity the moment she didn't need him any longer, so he wanted to be long gone before that happened.


	4. A Normal Guy And A Pretty Girl

**A/N: At some point in life, things have to give... Transition is everywhere...**

Chapter Text

Monroe couldn't quite pinpoint when things had started to change between them, but over the course of the next week of her recovery they somehow did. Maybe it began with a simple gesture from her – he'd come home from work and found she'd gotten up and cleaned his shack. She'd also gone through the effort of fixing their nightly meal of stew with whatever he'd had lying around. He'd needed to go on another supply run but she'd made the best of what he'd had – the results of which were much better than what he usually managed.

Maybe it began a few minutes later with the slightly embarrassed thanks he'd stammered when he saw her peace offering, or maybe it was the way she giggled at him at the way he blushed when he'd shown his appreciation. Her laughter had only seemed to fluster him all the more.

Whatever it was, they somehow slowly formed an almost domestic camaraderie in the week that followed. They still rarely spoke but instead of an underlying resentment permeating the shack, they shared a more comfortable silence.

She'd been with him just a little over three weeks. After dinner, she'd insisted he rest on the bed for a while. She'd noticed how sleeping on the floor was taking a toll on him. He didn't sleep well as it was, but every night he spent on the floor seemed to make it worse.

She busied herself with sewing the sleeve of his shirt where he'd torn it on the mine earlier that day. She'd watched him attempt to do it himself and had taken pity him when all he'd succeeded in doing was making a few messy stitches that were destined to pull out and bleed on the material.

She took her time mending, waiting for the telltale sound of his light snoring to confirm he actually fell asleep. After she'd finished with the shirt, she padded around the shack, straightening up a little while he slept. She'd initially planned on waking him after a while so she could replace him in the bed, but seeing him there she felt bad for it. He really must have been exhausted.

Not wanting to take his place on the cold floor, she instead shoved him over. He didn't even stir. He just rolled over instead, leaving her just enough room to lie down without them touching. Since he was under the covers, she grabbed the blanket he normally used on the floor. She hadn't had it over her for more than a few seconds before she realized how thin and scratchy it was.

It really started to sink in how miserable their arrangement was for him. With a sigh, she stuffed the blanket in between them to act as a buffer of sorts and pulled the blankets over her as well. She laid there for several minutes, the even sound of his breathing to lulling her to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning it was to the exquisite sensation of a very warm and soft body next to him. He opened his eyes to reveal her hair spilling across the pillow, just inches from his face. He groggily tried to remember how they'd managed to find themselves in such a position. Just then, she squirmed and snuggled closer in her sleep. Before he embarrassed the both of them, Monroe got out of the bed as quietly and quickly as he could.

He turned around to watch her has he grabbed his clothes. With a smile he noticed the way she sought his presence as soon as her body felt the loss of warmth. Shaking his head he headed outside to relieve himself and change clothes in the outhouse. He did the best he could to ignore the reaction his body had to her as he zipped up his jeans, wincing.

Despite waking with the most painful case of morning wood in the history of mankind, he felt pretty good. It had been the first time he'd slept through the night without the benefit of alcohol since he could remember. Adding that to the fact that he'd gotten paid the day before and it was starting out to be a fairly decent morning.

She awoke smiling lazily at him while he cooked a few eggs he'd been given for helping out an elderly widow with her firewood on his way home the night before. He knew she was feeling better and was almost back to her former good health. If he was using his head, he would have left town a few days ago. She had certainly been well enough to get by on her own by then, and he knew the day was coming soon where this fragile illusion would shatter. Soon she'd go back to trying to kill him and he'd go back to trying to disappear. In all likelihood, she would eventually catch up with him again and succeed where she'd failed before – if another bounty hunter hadn't already caught him by then.

That evening when he got home from work, she seemed to be in a lot better mood than he was. Throughout the day all he could think about was her impending departure, no matter how much he tried to shake it from his mind. He knew he shouldn't care so much, but for some reason he'd just gotten used to her presence. He knew that if he really wanted to he could keep her there, but he'd never stoop so low – not with her.

After dinner she'd offered to clean up while he fiddled with the caulking on the window. She'd noticed the day before it was overly drafty. He finally broke the silence. "So tomorrow night, there's this thing in town. It's not a big deal just a little music and dancing – it's apparently tradition for the mines to close on All Saint's Day so the night before there's a party. You know, for Halloween."

"Okay," she said, looking up at him.

Monroe refused to meet her penetrating gaze. Instead he just concentrated on his task. "So I was thinking, maybe you'd wanna go- if you're feeling up to it."

"Sebastian Monroe, are you asking me out on a date?" Charlie couldn't resist the temptation.

He almost dropped the knife he'd been using to cut the old caulking. "No. I, Um… No," he stammered. "I just thought that since you've been cooped up for the past few weeks you'd like to get out, that's all." _Don't blush, you will not blush_, he silently commanded himself. "Anyway, it's not a big deal so-"

"Yes, I would love to go with you to this not-a-date, no big deal thing - with music," she interrupted, feeling the urge to put the poor man out of his misery.

Monroe tried to hide his sigh of relief, knowing very well he'd handled that like a total dipshit and that she'd miraculously decided to allow him to save face. "Well okay then," he said as he went back to work on the window.

The next day she received an unexpected visit from Mei. "I thought I'd check you one last time," the old woman said as she entered the door.

"What's all that?" Charlie asked as she saw Mei carried more than just her normal satchel.

The woman set down one of the bundles on the hope chest and handed the other to her. "I heard you were planning on going to the party in town tonight. Not everyone around here has something nice to wear, but the ones that do definitely dress for it. Jack didn't want to show up looking like he'd been rolling around in a coal bin all day, so he asked me to do a little shopping for him. He also thought maybe you'd want the option to wear something other than your jeans?"

As she listened to Mei, Charlie unwrapped the bundle. The dress inside was simple to be sure. The skirt was weather appropriate and would hang well below her knees. Still, the deep blue material was soft and was most likely hand dyed. "Please tell me he didn't pick this out," she said as she started to feel a blush rise to her cheeks.

"Of course not," she said with pride. "He can be thoughtful when he wants to be, but he's not that good." The old lady cackled as she recalled the conversation she'd had with the man when he'd stopped by early on the way to the mines. The shops hadn't been open yet and would be closed well before he got off work, due to the party. He'd added something 'nice' for Charlie as an afterthought when he realized that the majority of the women in town typically had at least one nicer outfit in reserve just in case the occasion arrived. Most of the miners would be barely clean at best, but women would always be women.

Mei went about the task of giving Charlie one last checkup, declaring her well on the mend. "I suspect you're more than ready to continue on your travels if that's what you still want to do," she said as she offered up one last gift, a small sliver of soap that she'd made herself. She decided to throw it in for free, even though he hadn't requested it. Like most of the people around here he used the harsh lye for everything from his body to his clothes. Let the girl feel soft and pretty for one night.

Charlie watched the woman thoughtfully. "So the two of you are good friends then?" she asked.

"We're friendly enough, I suppose." She replied. "I know his name isn't Jack Smith, I've known it from the day he arrived. He's hiding from something, but then again so are many people here – that's why then end up in the wastelands; they all want to escape. I know an injured soul when I see one; and I also know a repentant one. He's been nothing but kind to me. He's helped me out here and there when I need it and he doesn't cause trouble like a lot of newcomers do.

"Besides, who wouldn't want a friend with a body and a face like that?" Mei cackled as she opened the door.

Charlie was once again left alone. She sat down and looked at the dress in awe. Her first instinct was to throw it back at him and ask what he was really up to, but for some reason she couldn't force herself to do that. So instead, she brought in as much water as she could to heat up and used it to wash her hair and get herself cleaned up. She made sure to leave enough for Monroe, and then put on the soft blue dress. She'd still have to wear her boots, but all in all she didn't think it looked too bad.

She was just finished getting the snarls out of her hair with the comb she'd found in his hope chest when Monroe came in the door. He stood there slack jawed for a second as he watched her. She stood nervously as she subjected herself to his perusal. After a moment he forced himself to look away. He noticed that she'd left water warming so he could clean himself up, so immediately went to the task, trying to forget the sight of her – stripped to his boxers he felt too exposed to allow her to see what that had done to him.

Charlie politely turned her back so he had some semblance of privacy as he tried to scrub the grime from his skin. Deep down she was a little hurt that he hadn't said anything about the way she looked, but she did her best to ignore that- and the sounds of him trying to wash up. He'd had to refill the basin several times before the water finally started coming back clear and he was taking forever.

When she finally got annoyed with standing there and turned to sit on the bed, he was just pulling on the shirt. The clothes Mei had brought him were second hand, like everything else he owned (he'd obviously spent more on her dress than his entire outfit – which included a newly repaired pair of boots), but they were definitely a step up from his normal clothes.

"Ready?" he asked as he went to grab his jacket, which he'd washed the night before and thankfully did not need to wear today. When she didn't respond immediately, he started to get nervous. He had a feeling she was just about ready to tell him to go fuck himself.

"Why did you ask me to go to this thing with you? What did you hope it would accomplish?" She regretted it the moment it came out of her mouth, but she couldn't help it. She'd been told over and over again that he was manipulative and could lay on the charm in the process, but the longer she'd been here the harder it was to remind herself of that.

He held out her jacket and just looked at her. "For one night, can't I just pretend that I'm a normal guy taking a pretty girl to a dance? Can't you just pretend for one night that you want to go? You can get back to trying killing me tomorrow."

Charlie couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face. "You think I'm pretty?" She turned around so he could put her jacket on her shoulders.

"If that isn't the oddest way to fish for complements that I've ever seen…" he murmured as he led her out the door and into the night. The weather was fairly warm for the last day of October and the party would be able to spill out into the streets. This meant that the bar, which was the epicenter for the event would be less crowded.

When they first arrived most of the men he worked with at the mine had not yet arrived, but the bar was already filling up with the other locals. By the time the music started, however the other miners had started trickle in. He led her around the bar, introducing her to the few people he was friendly with in town before settling near the bar to get them something to drink. She noticed that as more of his co-workers arrived, his hand found its way to her waist more and more often. The contact was brief, but just possessive enough for her to notice it.

As couples filled the dance floor, she began to attract more attention from the younger men, not to mention a few of the older ones as well. Monroe left her side only once. They'd run into Mei and he'd abandoned her just long enough to secure them a table so they could eat. Both women made their way over slowly when he'd found one.

"I wonder what the hell has gotten into him." Charlie mused aloud as she followed Mei through the crowd towards him.

Mei stopped to look at her. "This is a mining town and you're a new face, and a pretty one at that. Most of the workers are a decent sort, but there's more than a handful that see the word 'no' as a challenge, not a refusal. He's making sure they know to keep their hands off. Most people in town can tell he's not to be trifled with, so they'll keep their distance if they happen to catch you alone." As she resumed walking Charlie barely heard her next words, "That, and he's probably a little jealous."

Charlie watched him while they ate, trying to figure out what his game was. From all appearances, it was just as what he'd said earlier. He just wanted to have fun for one night. He looked up and caught her watching him. Flustered, she looked away and tried to pretend she hadn't been caught staring.

Later in the night, they stood by the bar and enjoyed a few more drinks and the music, watching couples dance. Mei had long since abandoned them to mingle. As the dancing went on, Charlie eventually came to the conclusion that he was not going to ask her to dance and it was getting increasingly more difficult to hide her disappointment. "So, I take it you don't dance then?" she ventured.

"Hmm?" he said looking up. "I don't do it very often, but I can."

"Oh." Charlie felt very foolish for just having opened her big mouth. Maybe it was the glow of the whiskey, but she just couldn't stop the words from coming out. "You just don't dance with me…"

Monroe flinched. He couldn't believe what she'd just said. "You're just getting over pneumonia. I didn't want to tire you out; otherwise I'd have asked you hours ago."

"I'm up to it, you know."

The tempo of the music had just changed to something slower. Without another word he led her away from the bar and pulled her to him. One hand holding hers and the other around her waist he spun her around the dance floor.

"When's the last time you've done this?" she asked after a few minutes.

Monroe let a shy chuckle escape. "It's been a while," he admitted. He wasn't about to tell her exactly how many years it was, if only to avoid pointing out how old he was getting. "In case I forgot to tell you earlier, you look amazing tonight." He added, immediately looking away. _You're just being nice, you're not hitting on her. Do not look at her - you will NOT look at her._

And of course, he couldn't help himself. When she wrapped her free arm around his neck, he stopped listening to himself and looked at her. Charlie smiled up at him, secretly enjoying his discomfort just as much as she was enjoying the dance itself and the feel of his hand at her waist. She had to admit that he was rather good at it.

So far he'd done everything he could to remain the complete gentleman around her, but watching her smile up at him was making it hard to behave himself. _You will not look at her lips; do not look at her lips. It's not like she'd let you kiss her anyway, so there's no reason to continue looking at her lips_.

Monroe looked away from her just long enough to realize they'd slowly drifted to the far side of the bar and were dancing in the shadows. He couldn't tell if she didn't notice or if she just didn't care. _Do not kiss her. You will not kiss her. I am ordering you not to kiss her; you cannot kiss her, she'd probably kill you. Aw fuck – Were you always this bad at taking orders?_ Before he could stop himself, Monroe bent towards her and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

It was just for a split second, a light meeting of lips and then he pulled back. He cautiously searched her eyes for something – aversion, desire anything. When she didn't react he did it again, this time lingering for a moment longer. When he broke the contact off again, he suddenly realized how stupid he'd just been. "Charlie, I'm sorry, I-"

Before he could finish she stood on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, she released his hand and wrapped her other arm around his neck, clinging to him as they continued to dance. He took control, moving his lips against hers softly. Mindful of the setting, he didn't press to take things further; he just enjoyed the feeling of her arms wrapped around his neck and the taste of her lips. It dawned on him several minutes later that they were still swaying to music that was no longer being played. He pulled away again and cleared his throat, hoping they hadn't gained an audience.


	5. A Moment In Time Can Change Your Life

**A/N: Gratuitous Sex Chapter - So sue me!**

Chapter Text

Without sharing a word, they both headed towards the exit and left the bar, grabbing their jackets on the way. Holding her hand he led her back to the shack. The second the door was closed, he captured her mouth again, this time running his tongue across her bottom lip. Charlie sighed and opened for him and he tentatively touched his tongue to hers. Despite her urging to get on with it, he tried to keep it slow. He wanted to savor her for just a moment longer and give her a chance to pull away before things got out of hand.

She rushed headlong into things, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. At that moment, he was sunk. He deepened the kiss. Thrusting his tongue inside more forcefully, he went to remove her jacket now. The second it fell to the floor, he cupped her face with his hands and backed her up towards the bed. She paused his advance long enough to kick her boots off before grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer.

Charlie let out a light moan as she started to work the buttons on his shirt. When she reached where it was tucked into his trousers, she yanked it out desperately before finishing the job. His shirt now hanging open, she gave into temptation and ran her hands down his chest and abs, reveling in the feeling of the muscles tensing under her touch.

Monroe cupped the back of her head with one hand while the other slowly hitched up her skirt until his fingers found the hem. He drew it up slowly, revealing her legs and then her flat stomach. Sensing what he wanted, Charlie took over the job and brought the dress up over her head, breaking their kiss off. She tossed the dress aside as he started pressing hot kisses down the side of her neck.

She responded by nipping at his earlobe, earning her a low growl in appreciation. Before she knew what was happening she felt the back of her knees hit the bed. She let them buckle under her, falling backwards onto the mattress. Monroe's hand hit the bed before her head, catching her. Stretching out next to her, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and dragged her up so they were both lying fully on the bed.

Capturing her mouth once more, he ran his hand up her leg, stopping at the back of her thigh. Charlie's breath started to come in short pants as his fingertips grazed her skin, branding her with his touch. She arched her back, giving him room to slide his other hand under her and remove her bra. He worked his mouth down her throat and chest and found her breasts – one hand came up and started gently kneading one while his lips found the hardening nipple on the other.

He heard her mumble something incoherently so he paused to look up at her. They locked eyes for a moment, and held it. They could both see the longing and passion burning there. She reached up and stroked the side of his face with her hand. The feel of his beard scratching her palm was inexplicably arousing. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and gently urged him down towards her breast once more. Understanding her not so subtle hint, Monroe curled his tongue around the hard bud and lavished it while she moaned and writhed beneath him.

He teased one nipple and then the other, the stimulation sending her arousal to new heights. Unable to take it anymore, she began to whimper. This drew his mouth back to her lips once more. Charlie ran her hands up and down his back, massaging the muscles there before working her way down his sides. She ran her thumbs along the waistband of his trousers on both sides until they met in the front. His hard length was poking out the top. With a chuckle, she undid the button and zipper freeing him from his confinement.

He groaned as she took him in her hand, running her fingers up and down the hard shaft before gently palming the tip. He didn't want her to stop; he needed her to stop. He abruptly rolled away and worked his boots off, kicking free of his pants completely. As she feasted her eyes on his fully nude body, hard in every way, she was laid out for him in only her panties like a sacrificial lamb.

Monroe captured her mouth for a few moments before working his way down. He paused just long enough to run a light circle around each nipple and then continued his downward path, placing kisses down her belly. She ran her fingers through his hair as he continued, stopping at her waist and nipping at her flesh there. His hands came up and found her last garment, slowly pulling it from her.

She spread her legs for him as he settled between them, his lips tracing the inside of her thigh. As he got closer and closer to her entrance, Charlie's breath came in short puffs. Finally he opened her with is thumbs and ran his tongue lightly up her hot center all the way to the sensitive bundle of nerves. He pressed on her clit just a little with his tongue as he stroked just inside her with his finger. "So wet," he moaned as his tongue replaced his digit and he started making love to her with his mouth.

The feeling of his mouth on her sent shivers down her spine and had her moaning and writhing and begging. He alternated between licking her clit and sliding his fingers in and out of her and sliding his tongue in and out. Before long, Charlie knew she could take it no more. "Please," she moaned as she sat up and grabbed him by the shoulders, urging him back up.

Monroe spread her legs even wider and before he'd even entered her, Charlie wrapped her legs around his waist. He stopped just at her entrance, his tip moist with the evidence of her arousal. "Charlie, look at me," he said, doing his best to maintain some semblance of control.

He waited until her eyes locked with his, and then a moment longer for them to come into focus. "I need you to be sure. Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"

"Sebastian, Bass…" she moaned.

"Charlie, focus." He said. He could sense when she started trying to control her breathing and calm herself. When he knew he really had her attention, he repeated the question. "Are you sure? No regrets here."

"Yes. I am absolutely sure. I want you, now. No regrets."

Monroe's mouth met hers. She could taste her own arousal on his tongue and it drover her wild. He entered her swiftly, holding himself still inside her as he kissed her tenderly. This might just be a one-time thing, but he'd be damned if it was going to be a quick fuck. She wrapped her arms around him and shifted her legs just a little to the back of his thighs, holding him in place and enjoying the fullness of him.

Monroe's arm cradled her, holding her close. With his free hand he stroked her jaw and then ran his fingers down her neck and shoulder, all the while their tongues created a slow dance of their own. He worked his hand down her arm. She released the hold on his back and allowed him to take her hand, locking her fingers with his as he slowly began to move within her.

Drawing back slowly he waited for her to moan in anticipation before entering her once more. Each stroke of him was slow, deliberately timed and placed to drive her wild, but he kept the motions light and gentle. This wasn't about pounding to the end of a race; this was about the journey to get to the finish line. He reveled in the way her tight sheath enveloped him, the way the whimpers in her throat rang in his ears; the way her hand squeezed his and her hips rose to meet him every time he thrust inside.

"God, you're so beautiful," he moaned against her lips. "And you feel like heaven." He swept his tongue inside her mouth once more. She kissed him back with all the passion she had, sucking on his tongue and tasting the inside of his mouth, the slight hint of her arousal still there.

Charlie could feel the tightness coiling within her as she built up closer. She wanted to burst, but at the same time she wanted the build up to last all night. His breathing became ragged as he tried his best to maintain control. He wanted to feel her come apart around him, and was having trouble holding back. The feel of her walls gripping him with every thrust he made was driving him mad.

"Don't stop," she panted in between kisses.

"I'm going to have to sooner or later," he told her. He could tell she was almost there. She was bucking her hips with every thrust, desperate to increase the friction between them. "Come for me, Charlie," he groaned. He was in danger of losing himself in the moment in a way he'd never done before.

"Only if you come with me," she begged as she continued to climb.

Those words broke what little control he had on himself. Kissing her frantically, he began to thrust faster now, urging them both closer. Almost there, she broke her lips from his, throwing her head back as he overwhelmed her. His mouth found her throat, hot tongue searing her flesh as her moans came louder. She started to convulse and contract, as she began to bear down, her orgasm ripping her apart from the inside and shattering her into a million pieces.

With one last desperate thrust, he felt his balls tighten and the inevitable happened. He pushed insider her as far as he could, growling her name as he poured himself into her, the aftershocks of her orgasm clenching and holding him in place.

His hand still locked on hers, he found her mouth, kissing her gently. Her swollen lips parted and their tongues embraced once more as they panted, desperate for air but unwilling to break their mouths apart to find it. When he finally pulled away, he looked down at her. He wanted to memorize the way she looked in the moonlight, her face flushed with passion, her eyes heavy in the aftermath of her climax.

Eventually he pulled out of her and rolled off of her. Monroe pulled her to him and waited for her to settle comfortably against him before pulling the blanket over them both. He knew when the morning came everything would be different and back to the way it was before, but the last thought in his head was a prayer that it wouldn't be. With this one act, he realized he lost a part of himself to Charlie Matheson - as dumb as he knew that was.

The next morning Charlie awoke well before him. This was something that had not yet happened. This occurrence screamed of fate. She slowly crawled out of the bed and went to find her clothes – her real ones. Coming across the dress first, she gently laid it over the back of one of the chairs. She dressed as quickly as possible, desperate not to wake him. As she laced her boots she looked up to see if he was still sleeping. His face was almost boyish as he dreamed away, unaware that she was preparing to finally take her leave. She grabbed her crossbow and a small bag of food, feeling guilty for the theft but not having any other choice. She found her pack and slung it over her shoulder. Deep down she was terrified that the sound of the door would wake him and he'd ask her to stay. Deep down she worried that if he did, she wouldn't be able to leave.

She'd already made the decision by the time his lips touched hers so lightly that first time. She knew she could not kill him; that she no longer wanted his death at her hands, or anyone else's for that matter. He'd made a life for himself here, as simple as it was and it seemed that in spite of everything he'd been before, he'd finally found a small sliver of peace.

She didn't know exactly when the change in her had come. She knew it was long before she'd made the decision to share herself with him. Maybe it was the fact that even though he knew she was determined to have her vengeance, he'd still cared for her so tenderly at such a great cost to himself. She was sure that if her mother had been a fly on the wall these past weeks that the woman would claim he'd manipulated her to save his own skin. And three weeks ago, she'd have believed it, but now she knew better.


	6. The Morning After (And A Few After That)

Chapter Text

_He wakes slowly in the late morning light. It's later than he's slept since, well ever. Definitely since before he even joined the marines. He opens his eyes and finds that he is alone. He knew this was coming, but his heart sinks all the same. He'd been hoping that for just once in his life he could hold onto something good- and if there was ever something good in this world, it was Charlotte Matheson._

_He isn't so disillusioned to think her perfect, but how could she be anything other than good when she'd found it in her heart to share a night like that with one such as he? He'd been with a lot of women in his years and he knew when one was faking. Whether or not what she felt was conflicted was only hers to know, but she'd felt something for him. He knows it every bit as much as he knows he doesn't deserve it._

_He gets up and looks around, hoping that she's left a small trace of herself behind. All he finds was the dress he'd pulled from her the night before. He knows he can sell it back and get at least part of what he'd paid for it. It's brand new and clothing like that was hard to come by. Instead, he gently folds it up and places it inside the hope chest before getting dressed._

_He notices the food she's taken right off the bat, but he doesn't begrudge her it. She didn't clear him out, she didn't kill him in his sleep, and she didn't take what little money he had (including the pouch she'd given him, which he'd actually hoped she'd been smart enough to take). A part of him is screaming inside to pack up his things and hit the road before she comes back to finish the deed or sends others after him in her stead._

_He hesitates. He's tired of running. For good or ill, this is where he's making his stand. His existence is not exactly grand, but he's okay with it. He has work that will likely never dry up, a roof over his head and enough money to get by. He's got a friend in Mei and a few of the other miners, which is more than he can say he ever had in Philly. There he had luxuries that he can no longer imagine, but in the end he didn't have a single soul he could call friend. In that regard, he is far richer than he was before._

_Sure, the guilt of the past will keep him up at night for years to come. And while he is not so foolish to think he will never be with another woman (in fact, he probably won't last all that long after her departure – he is what he is), he knows she will always carry a part of him with her, even when she doesn't realize it. For the first time since he buried Shelly and his unborn child he's truly given his heart away. She'll never reciprocate it and he'll probably never see her again, but he's okay with that too. Just for one night he got to be a normal guy taking a pretty girl to a dance and for that one night they loved each other. With all the things he's done, he considers himself lucky that he's had those moments with her._

_He spends the day enjoying the time off work. He cleans his shack and refills the barrel on his porch from the pump out back. Nothing is open in town today, so he just wanders here and there, enjoying the quiet. It's been so long since he's just been able to just be. No responsibilities, no one currently shooting at him. He's greeted by a few people he knows on his way back home._

_He digs out an old book from his hope chest, pretending not to look at the dress she'd worn as he does. It's some random paperback he'd found somewhere along the way and held onto for reasons he doesn't even know. A murder mystery so poorly written that he cannot believe anyone once valued it enough to publish it. He stretches out on the bed they shared the night before and starts to read, getting lost in the plot despite how bad it really is._

_The next day he gets up and gets ready for work. He eats his breakfast, trying not to notice how lonely it is to eat alone now. He'd woken up with the paperback opened to the halfway point across his chest. Thinking back, he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. It was well before the blackout, that's for damn sure. Before long, he's headed into the mine. He picks up one of the hard hats sitting out front and goes to work, swinging his pickaxe and breaking the coal out in smaller pieces, sending his cart back when it's full. _

_In the distance comes a distant rumble, followed by shouting. He looks up from where he stands, eyes growing wide as he realizes what's happening. The rumbling is louder now and is all around them. Black dust falls from above – the 12B shaft in Wright, Wyoming is having a cave in and some of them will be buried alive. He grabs ahold of the man next to him, who has gone paralyzed with fear and half drags him towards the entrance…_

On her third day on the road, Charlie was just passing through the larger city of Gillette. She was passing by the rail yard when she heard a commotion. Curious, she joined the small crowd. A man spoke from his vantage point on the top of a ramp leading into a box car. He was begging for volunteers. "What's happening?" she asked a woman in the crowd.

"Cave in," she explained. "They're looking for volunteers to help clear the bodies and look for survivors."

"Where is it?" Charlie wanted to get out of the wastelands as soon as possible, but the compassion in her already had her ready to offer a helping hand.

"Wright," the woman replied before walking off.

Charlie's her heart started to pound in her chest and for a second she felt the world spin on its axis around her. _It couldn't be. He'd have left the moment he realized I was gone… or would he? _In a daze, she raised her hand to volunteer. "I'll go; I'll help!" she called to the man at the top of the ramp. At first her offer to help was met with disdain. It was clear that they thought she was too small to be of any real assistance.

"I'm stronger than I look; besides, I don't see any of these men offering to go," she taunted.

The man looked at her. "Miss you do realize that digging out a cave in always carries a risk of causing another?"

"I'm not a coward. Now are we leaving soon, or are you going to stand there and argue with me while innocent men suffocate?"

Her answer seemed good enough for him. Within an hour the train was pulling out of the station towards Wright with forty-one volunteers. It was a four hour ride via train and then another hour walk to the mines. The entire time, Charlie fought the alternating urges to retch and cry. She should have asked her to come with her. If she had, he wouldn't have been there. _It's not him. There are so many different mine shafts that the chances of him being in the wrong one are slim. He's smart and he's fast. Even if he was there he'd have gotten out. It's not Monroe. He'll go out in a blaze of glory, not waste away in a black coal-lined tomb. It's not him…_

As soon as they arrived they got to work immediately. She didn't bother breaking away to see if he was at home. Even if he was safe, there are still those that are trapped down there. Recovery efforts were already under way. He was probably helping to save his colleagues on the other side of the rescue site. She dug and searched, coating herself black in the process. She came across one survivor. Her heart was in her chest as she dug him free, his body broken but hanging on. She searched his blackened features, but it wasn't him. Still, she called out for help and another man (also not him) joined her to carry the miner out to safety.

Several hours later, she'd come across several bodies; none were his. When they lost the light they had no choice but to stop. There was too much dust to light enough lanterns and not risk a fire. She used the light of the moon to search the mangled bodies that had been pulled from the mine. Her spirits lifted when she saw that he was not among them. She stopped by the main tent that had been put up. There was a list of all the men in the mine at the time it had collapsed. She crossed her fingers and held her breath as she went down the list of names. There it was, in neat black script against the off-white paper: Jack Smith.

There were running lists of those that had been identified as having survived and those that had been confirmed lost. His name was on neither list, meaning he was simply missing. She tried to head back in but was stopped. With her eyes welled to the brim, she made her way to his shack, praying that despite the lists she would find him inside. Heedless of anyone that might be watching, she stripped down to her undergarments on the porch, letting her clothes fall atop her boots in a haphazard pile. She went around back and used the pump to scrub herself halfway clean.

Broken, she entered the shack. She found the paperback he'd left on the bed, smiling as she pictured him reading it. She curled up on the bed and cried herself to sleep. It wasn't until the moment she heard about the cave in that she'd realized how big of a mistake she'd made in leaving that morning.

The next day was more of the same. She dug and searched for twelve hours before it was deemed too dark to continue. She went from body to body, tent to tent, all the while finding nothing. She checked the lists once more. There were only a few names that hadn't been accounted for, and his was among them. As she walked away from the rescue sight she began to sob.

"Charlotte?"

The voice stopped her in her tracks. "Mei?" she saw the Asian woman standing there. She'd been in the process of handing out water to both the workers and the few survivors they'd rescued. The woman looked tired. Charlie was willing to bet she'd been working around the clock.

"I thought you left town. What are you doing here? And what's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm here to help, and how can you ask me what's wrong? He's still missing," she wailed.

Mei shook her head in confusion. "What are you talking about? He made it out in time."

"No, he's still listed as missing," Charlie insisted.

"Are you sure? It has to be a mistake. I saw him myself, talked to him. He was banged up pretty good because he went back to help another miner, but he was okay. They sent him home – he dislocated his shoulder. They won't let him help with the rescue." Mei was insistent.

Dazed, Charlie walks away. If he couldn't help with the rescue, he might have decided to leave the area. After all, with his injury he'll be unable to work for weeks. She headed back to his shack once more. If there's one thing she was good at, it was tracking Sebastian Monroe. Just outside the row of shacks, she saw something she hadn't noticed before –probably because she hadn't been looking for it. The marks were definitely from a wagon; she could see the horse hooves that went with it. There was something else though. The wheels are treaded. An image from her past popped in her head; she knew what had become of him.


	7. Life Progresses All The Same

**A/N: Season 2 Resumes...**

**If I were so inclined I could take the events of the story up until now, and completely redo how season 2 progressed because of them. But, I'm lazy and a lot of people have done that, and really season 2 is still kind of concrete in my head in so many ways - and did I mention that I am fairly lazy? As such I kind of just summarize it all here. I have not really changed anything other than a few lines of text where Charlie says something instead of Monroe, or she says a little more of something, etc.**

**The only thing that obviously changes is the pool scene and the scenes where Monroe escapes from the bounty hunters (yes, it's the same pair both times, obviously). What this is more than anything is a progression to the aftermath of the war with the Patriots and it's a little bit of how the perspective of both characters is different because of all the events in the previous chapters...**

Chapter Text

_Nine days later._

_Charlie finds them in an empty swimming pool. It's almost laughable how easily she found the trail. They'd pulled off the main road quite early. Most of the paths they'd taken weren't paved, or were blocked off in one direction, but they never followed one road. They always pulled off the road for the night, leaving one giant mess for her to follow._

_She leans into the pool. There he is, all tied up. They've got him chained to the metal ladder that the owners of this pool once used to get in and out of the water. His head is down; he's asleep or has been knocked out._

_The older of the two men is looking at an old Playboy magazine. He turns his head as he looks at the nude women in the lantern light. It's apparent he's got first watch. Charlie very carefully uses the stock of her crossbow to knock him out._

_Before she can get to Monroe, a gun goes off and she takes a hit in the shoulder. She falls into the pool and everything goes black. The next thing she knows she's tied up and it is light out. "Rise and shine," he says from where he's spent the night. He seems angry. She can't tell if it's because he think she's betrayed him or if it's because she's come after him – or both. Either way, she can't take her eyes off of him._

_The other bounty hunter comes up and puts a salve on her arm where the rock salt has hit her shoulder. She winces in pain at the contact. They exchange a few smart remarks before he disappears. Apparently they broke a wheel and have to repair it before they get moving._

"_Did you do it?" Monroe asks. After the past week he's had, he's tired and disillusioned._

"_What? No, of course not." Charlie is taken aback- the accusation stings. "I went back to look for you when I heard about the cave in. I spent two days digging in that fucking mine, praying that you weren't dead and checking the lists, only to track you here."_

_He wants to believe. Oh God, he wants to believe. "And you thought that you'd what; just take out two bounty hunters all on your lonesome?"_

"_Well, to be honest, I'm a bit astounded that they're still alive. You losing your edge?"_

_In truth, he hasn't even tried. He knew it was more than likely an inevitable outcome. He got his one day of happiness and when they came, he was resigned to let them do their worst. "They blindsided me. I've got a dislocated shoulder besides, and no weapons."_

_They both know he's full of shit, but she lets it slide. "So what now?" she asks._

"_Simple. You pretend you're here to kill me instead of rescuing me and you get your ass home to your family. I can take care of myself," he says. He's already retreating into himself. He has to bring back General Monroe if he's to survive. Something that this bounty hunter said has had his mind racing. The United States Government? He needs to know._

_Despite her protests Charlie does as he says. He manages to cut his bindings with a broken piece of tile from the pool and escapes a second time. This time he's almost caught in the act. He leaves one body in his wake and is working on the second when she catches up to them. She has to hit him with a large tree branch just to get him to stop. She doesn't like to kill unless she has to do it, and this man's death isn't necessary._

_Before she realizes what he's doing, he's taken the wagon and he's gone. She takes off down the road alone, unable to believe that he didn't wait for her. Two days later she catches up to him, or more accurately, she finally arrives where he's been waiting for her. He shows her the bounties that he's found in the back of the wagon. He wasn't planning on coming back for her – he can't be the same man he was, he tells her. He'd been planning on disappearing (so he couldn't hurt her, but he keeps that part to himself)._

_They need to warn Miles and Rachel about the Patriots and find out why they want her mother. His warrant makes sense. They are trying to pin the bombs on him to conceal the fact that Randall Flynn was working for them. By now the Patriots are well aware that he has to have made the connection between their group and Flynn. Therefore, he has to be eliminated. And, it's not like he isn't guilty enough to deserve it anyways._

_That first night, Charlie tries to lay with him, but he pushes her away. "Charlie, where we're going there's no room for that."_

"_It meant nothing to you?" she asks, clearly very hurt._

_The mask goes back up to conceal the pain he feels. "It meant everything, but it's over and we can't go back." Her family doesn't need the guy that took the girl to the dance. They need the man that ran an army and controlled the Republic._

_The first few days are hard on both of them. It's hard to crush habits when the feelings are still there. By the time that they arrive in Willoughby, however their relationship had reverted back to the uneasy truce they'd had before – the only differences being that she doesn't hate him and he knows she won't kill him._

_By the time they're on a rooftop spying on the town, he's General Sebastian Monroe again. Jack Smith was a normal guy that took a pretty girl to the dance, and he died and was buried in a caved-in mine back in Wright Wyoming._

_When she brings Miles to him outside of town his former best friend confronts him. He knows the man before him – what has he done to her? The accusation of seduction hangs between them. Monroe denies it, Charlie deflects it. "He saved my life," is all she says._

_He stands there and spews this and that about revenge and the past. It's rubbish, but it's what Miles is willing to believe. Instead he's here because he wants to make up for the man he's been and find a way back to the coal miner from Wright. He wants to save the closest thing to a brother he's ever had and save the pretty girl he took to the dance._

_Later, she watches the two of them work together, fight together. She hears her uncle's insults and a part of her wants to slap some sense into him. Give the man a chance! She wants to scream those words, but she keeps her mouth shut. He's made it very clear. He's not the man that danced with her; he's not the man that made love to her._

_She watches him kill and she watches him plot. And then she watches him being carted away. Later she will learn her mother has taken any chance they had of rescuing him and destroyed it with her little tip-off to the Patriots. "He saved my life," she says again. "I almost died trying to get to him – to kill him, and he saved me and nursed me back to health. And he did it knowing that I would try to kill him again later." She doesn't tell her mother everything – just enough to make her realize that this man has put a lot on the line for their family._

_She watches as he's led to his execution. They lock eyes one last time. "Take care of your uncle, kid." It's the most he can say to her. Any hint that they once shared something could end in her death. His words are for Miles, but his eyes are for her._

_He tells Rachel he's sorry, and he means it. He never wanted things to end that way. When he turns his head back to the man that will inject him, he's not seeing him. He's seeing a pretty girl in a blue dress as he pulls her into is arms, leading her into a dance._

_When he wakes up later, he finds her there with the others, but now he's changed. A betrayal, long done but newly discovered has changed everything for him. A part of him will always belong to her, but he has a new drive – he has to find the son that Miles has stolen from him._

_Later they will fight side by side at the old high school. He will leave her, done with the mess that happens any time a Matheson and a Monroe are allied together in this dark world. He can't find his son if he's dead and that's exactly what's about to happen to him. He doesn't care about these Patriots any longer. But then as he leaves the building he remembers the dance and the night that came after. He comes back and saves her one last time._

_In the months that follow she watches him backslide and every moment another small piece of the man she'd cared about disappears. When he returns from Mexico with his grown son in tow, she can tell something bad happened there. The light inside him has dimmed even further._

_He becomes crass and cruel, plotting always with this strange younger version of himself. She hates what he's reverted back to. When he flaunts his former lover in front of her in New Vegas, it's the last straw, so she betrays the memory of what he was in a field outside of New Vegas. She is completely unaware that what is left of his heart breaks when he finds them._

_But when they're captured, she can't turn her back on him. She knows that he will die – even as he's slowly fallen back apart, he will not kill his own flesh and blood. He's lost every other piece of family he's ever had. He can't destroy what's left._

_She saves him, finally repaying him for those weeks where he nursed her back to health. But she doesn't see the recognition. It's like he's forgotten it completely now. The only sigh that he recalls anything at all is a hateful comment he makes about her banging his son – how she's chosen a Monroe. After that, it's like she ceases to exist to him._

_He becomes more brutal and pushes them all away; he has to. Jack Smith would have begged forgiveness and would have fought for what is right. Jack would have spared those Patriot recruits and would have tried to rehabilitate them (That Jack would probably have gotten himself killed because of it goes without saying). Jack Smith would have agreed to destroy the mustard gas, and because that's what Jack would have done, General Sebastian Monroe cannot._

_She's long since given up the hope that she will ever see Jack Smith again – he's proven time and time again that part of him is gone forever, buried under hundreds of feet of coal and rock. But then in a train yard he has to make a choice. And the choice he makes is not the one General Sebastian Monroe would have made. General Monroe would have let Tom Neville do whatever he needed to do and then would have boarded the train and driven it straight into DC because that's what it took to win (Incidentally, General Monroe would also have arrived in DC empty handed)._

_Instead, he does what Jack Smith would have done… Or rather, what Bass would have done. He'd called himself Jack, but as she watches him hold his gun to Neville's temple and then react before the man has a chance to kill her or Miles, she understands that the man who took her to the dance was just Bass – her Bass. He's still there lurking under the surface and begging to be set free._

_Later she'll tell Miles he's unpredictable – and he really is. Who will he be today? The cruel general? Jack? Bass? And who's Bass? Miles' Bass? Her Bass?_

_He pulls through one last time and shows up (a few hours late) with the President Davis, the faux leader of this so-called United States. She won't find out until long after what it cost him to do the right thing. By the time she does, the war is already over. It's just by chance that she happens to run into Connor Bennett on her way back home. She asks after his father and he reveals the truth. He never sees that his father wasn't the one who committed the betrayal. He will only see what he doesn't have, not would could have been._

_They were all separated during the war. It had started in Willoughby but soon it had spread across the continent. The Rangers needed all the help they could get, so they made use of their volunteer generals. They'd been all split up (the safest option to be sure) and sent to lead men of their own. Charlie had gone with a third group altogether._

_When it's all over, she returns to Willoughby. Miles isn't far behind her. But HE does not return. She knows he's alive, or at least he was when he returned with his men to Austin for debriefing. From what she's been told he took his pay for services to Texas and took off for destinations unknown._


	8. History Repeats In Surprising Ways

**A/N: Back to square one... Or are they?**

Chapter Text

_Two months after the war has ended_.

_October 29, 2029_

Sebastian Monroe stumbled out of the bar with the remainder of his pay in his pocket. He'd managed to last five weeks in Wright, Wyoming without getting into any trouble – four of them gainfully employed. And this time, the name he signed every week in the company log books to receive his hard earned diamonds was his own.

He'd been sent west with his regiment to fight the Patriots in the plains and on the borders. Later, when the supply of coal that Texas desperately needed for the war effort had dried up, he was ordered to discover why and correct the problem. The answer was quite evident when they'd gotten there: The Patriots had taken the mines and the towns that supplied the workers.

So he'd fought and he'd won. The mining had continued without the threat of the Patriots so that Texas could receive its coal. The trains could still run and he was sent elsewhere to fight new battles.

At the end of the war he'd found himself with no son, no pretty girl and no republic. So he'd done the only thing he could think of. He made his way back to Wyoming. A man had to eat, which meant a man had to work. As unglamorous as it was, he was surprisingly good at breaking apart coal with a pickaxe.

His actions here during the war combined with the fact that there was a worker shortage had given him the opportunity for a second chance. His connections here before the war had earned him forgiveness for his earlier lies. After all, this was the wastelands—people came here to hide and start over.

He found himself assigned to the same old shack. Most of his neighbors were new (half of the old ones died in that cave in; the others had moved on because of the war). Yes, it was just a one room shack, but hey it was home. Mei Ling, in all her crabby glory had stopped him in town the day he'd arrived. First, she'd smacked him for lying to her about his identity. Then she'd smacked him for disappearing. Eventually, she'd led him to her shop to retrieve something she'd been saving for him – a hope chest.

With more gratitude than he could ever express, he'd carried it back to his shack and opened it up. The woman must have gone through his shack and collected everything. Inside he found all of his meager and yet precious possessions. He'd come back with everything he'd need to get by, but there were memories inside.

So he made his way home. The buzz of whiskey surged through his veins, offering him the numbness he so craved. He would feel like shit in the morning, but it would be worth it to sleep. On the porch he kicked off his boots and stripped to his boxers, trying to ignore the cold and not giving a damn that anyone might see.

He shook his clothes out the best he could before grabbing the chunk of soap he kept in a bucket by the door and going around back and using the pump he shared with his neighbors to wash off the dust and grime, teeth chattering the entire time. As he worked the harsh lye soap into his hair it occurred to him that even new habits die hard sometimes.

Finishing up and darting inside before he froze to death, he yanked on his flannel pajama pants and crawled into bed before the cold could sober him up any more. He was almost asleep when he heard a sound outside his window. "You have got to be kidding me," he slurred.

Monroe slipped into his boots and grabbed his sword belt and gun. His clothes were wet still, so he just put on his jacket, not bothering to even button it up. Around his waist hung two swords- because that's just how Bass Monroe liked it. He crept around the side of the house and in the darkness he saw a figure leaning there casually up against the wood siding.

"Took you long enough to get out here. What did you do, stop to take a piss first?" Charlie said as he stopped right in front of her.

"Charlie?" He asked. "What are you doing here?"

"So I heard that there was this thing going on in town the day after tomorrow. It's kind of a big deal, you know with food and music. I was hoping I could find a normal guy to take a pretty girl to the dance." She arched a brow at him in challenge.

"Charlotte Matheson, are you asking me out on a date?" he replied.

"Why yes I am in fact – and unlike _some _people I know, I'm not afraid to say it."

He was close enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath and the soap on his skin. She could see his hair was still wet in the moonlight, his hot breath coming out as puffs in the cold air. He just stared at her for several minutes. "Well?" she asked.

His mouth hovered just above hers. "Yes, I would love to take you to this definitely-a-date, kind of a big deal thing - with music," he whispered before bringing his mouth closer, smiling as their lips met.

Two evenings later, he escorted her into the bar, a protective hand on the small of her back. He nodded at Mei, who was already mingling among the townsfolk and miners. When he was greeted by a few of the Rangers that were attending, he took the time to introduce them to Charlie. They'd been assigned to protect the coal mining region of the wastelands. A few of them even served under him during the war.

As he pulled her into a dance he looked down at her, smiling. He'd been appreciating the view of her in the soft blue dress all night. "In case I forgot to tell you earlier, you look amazing tonight." This time, he didn't force himself to look away as he spun her around the dance floor.

He held her hand, his other resting at her waist. Her free hand felt warm through the sleeve of the second-hand gray shirt he wore. They eventually found themselves on the other side of the bar, dancing in the shadows. Monroe's lips found hers. He was just a normal guy who has taken the pretty girl to the dance –two years in a row.


	9. The Morning After (Redux)

**A/N: ** **An extremely short epilogue- or the second half of an epilogue…**

_In the morning he wakes up slowly. He sits up and blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. He realizes he's alone. "Not again," he laments. He flops back down on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. He has to admit – he didn't see this one coming._

_He's debating whether he wants to let her go or chase her down to demand an explanation – he'll be damned if she shows up every October just to go to the stupid dance and then disappears on him the next day. Suddenly, the door to the shack opens and she's back inside. "It's freezing out there." Her teeth are chattering as she takes off the threadbare robe and kicks off her unlaced boots._

_He pulls back the covers and she climbs back in bed, her bladder now empty. He actually yelps when she puts her frozen fingers between his legs to 'warm them.'_

"_That was positively evil," he accuses as he watches her squirm and giggle._

"_Sorry, I couldn't resist," she says as she gives him a quick peck. "So, it's your extra day off. What do you want to do all day?"_

_He leans forwards and whispers right in here ear, describing in perfect detail just exactly what he wants to do with his extra day off. He chuckles as she turns beet red from head to toe. "And after that, I've got a book to finish," he tells her._

_Much later in the afternoon, a very sore and happy Charlie looks up from her task of mending his shirt (again) to see him lying there, his eyes closed with a paperback book opened, face down on his chest. She gets up and folds the corner of one of the pages in to mark his spot. Guess he'll have to save it for next year, she thinks as she puts it inside the hope chest, right on top of a soft blue dress. He sits up and blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. He realizes he's alone. "Not again," he laments. He flops back down on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. He has to admit – he didn't see this one coming._

_He's debating whether he wants to let her go or chase her down to demand an explanation – he'll be damned if she shows up every October just to go to the stupid dance and then disappears on him the next day. Suddenly, the door to the shack opens and she's back inside. "It's freezing out there." Her teeth are chattering as she takes off the threadbare robe and kicks off her unlaced boots._

_He pulls back the covers and she climbs back in bed, her bladder now empty. He actually yelps when she puts her frozen fingers between his legs to 'warm them.'_

"_That was positively evil," he accuses as he watches her squirm and giggle._

"_Sorry, I couldn't resist," she says as she gives him a quick peck. "So, it's your extra day off. What do you want to do all day?"_

_He leans forwards and whispers right in here ear, describing in perfect detail just exactly what he wants to do with his extra day off. He chuckles as she turns beet red from head to toe. "And after that, I've got a book to finish," he tells her._

_Much later in the afternoon, a very sore and happy Charlie looks up from her task of mending his shirt (again) to see him lying there, his eyes closed with a paperback book opened, face down on his chest. She gets up and folds the corner of one of the pages in to mark his spot. Guess he'll have to save it for next year, she thinks as she puts it inside the hope chest, right on top of a soft blue dress._


End file.
